


Eleanor Evergreen's Birthday

by xAestheticallyXReadingx



Series: Lemony Snippets [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Abusive Parents, Also I'm American so If I get British terms wrong this is why, Birthday, Birthday Party, Dumb Lesbian Energy, F/F, Father-Daughter Relationship, Found Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, It's got funny, MLM WLW solidarity, Panic Attack, Self Confidence Issues, Superpowers, T because of cursing, This is a chef's meal and I hope you're fed well at the end, This was supposed to be 3000 words lol, This whole work has the most diverse flavors in it, cursing, it's got angst, it's got fluff, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-20
Updated: 2019-03-20
Packaged: 2019-11-26 03:46:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18175430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xAestheticallyXReadingx/pseuds/xAestheticallyXReadingx
Summary: Sometimes, it's the ones we are told to trust hurt us. And sometimes, it's the ones you weren't supposed to care about are the ones that do.Eleanor Evergreen learns it the hard way on her sixteenth birthday.





	Eleanor Evergreen's Birthday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IWriteFicsAndTragdies](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IWriteFicsAndTragdies/gifts).



> If you do not want to read IWriteSinsNottragedies's personal note/this long note in general, there is a shorter version at the end. :)
> 
> This is for my friend's birthday, IWriteFicsandTragdies !  
> Happy birthday, so sorry for saying this mess was going to be 3,000 words lol  
> Ellee, you have given me so much inspiration, and I can proudly say that you have helped me, as a fellow writer and friend, to help me write better than ever before. I had so much fun writing this, to the funny, to sad, to cathargic, etc. I hope you feel the same emotions as I did when I write this. Happy 16th! :)
> 
> Eleanor Evergreen and Lady Evergreen is not my own original creation, but IWriteSins'sNottragedies's. Jerry is a collaborated creation with her too.
> 
> The superpowers tag is semi-misleading. While the main character and universe she's in does have powers, there are only subtle references to them.
> 
> Every other character is my own creation.

Eleanor fumbles with her phone and hanger on the same hand as she opens one of her closet handles. Once she walks in, she miraculously puts the dress hanger back in its place without dropping her phone. She doesn't keep in mind of whether the stuffy dress matches with the others it's sorted with or not. Eleanor was never good at that stuff anyways.

 

Unfortunately, what dress that does look nice on her isn't determined by the “cultured” English girl herself, but instead the passive-aggressive bane of Eleanor's existence.

 

Her phone vibrates in her hand as she receives a message. _Ugh, speak of the devil,_ Eleanor thinks as she opens up her messages to her poor excuse of a “friend”.

_> Why do you have that dress in the first place? It would have looked repulsive on everyone, including you._

_That bitch._ Eleanor quickly writes up a new text, equally as snarky.

 

_For someone who says they only like to look presentable when needed you sure know more about fashion than you say you do < _

_👀_ _< _

_> I'm only trying to help you, hun. If it means applying my general knowledge of aesthetic, then so be it._

_“general” < _

_> Anyways, do you happen to own any dresses that don't look as ugly as you?_

 

Ignoring that idiot's piss poor attempt to change the subject, Eleanor shifts her attention to the wide array of stuffy dresses and expensive wraps that were thrown in, only to be worn in even more stuffy and expensive parties. She fumbles her attention on which dress to focus on.

 

 _This one looks presentable…I think_ , Eleanor strains to understand fashion as she looks at a simple but elegant dress. She tries to remember how she got it in the first place, which turned fruitless ( _fuck, was it the great-aunt? Second cousin???)._ After a quick photo, Eleanor sends it.

 

_What about this one < _

_> Leah, that is the worst article of clothing I have ever laid my eyes on from your closet. What in the actual hell?_

_Fuck you. You cant just criticize me when you broke your “No CuRsInG” rule < _

_> Leah, that dress would look like you attended a funeral in that thing. _

_> Just pick the pink one next to it._

 

Eleanor looks to her left, her face immediately souring at the sight. _Oh hell no._ It was pink, yes, but in the color that seven year olds shat themselves over. There were more rhinestones stuck to the hem more than any dress should have, and more tulle than what should exist on anything. _And when did I get this???_

Disgusted by the mere sight of the dress Eleanor never remembered getting in the first place and the horrid suggestion that had no humor in it, she presses her message hard, seething with stress and anger.

 

_Bitch I am not wearing that < _

_Fuck no not on my fucking birthday even if I was desperate < _

_> Hahaha I know._

_> But I am saying this seriously, you must wear something your mother would allow to your birthday party; You have a room dedicated to that and me to help you._

_Dude do you think I dont care? < _

_Mum is going to kill me even if I want to wear something she disagrees with < _

_> I know._

_> Find something with an A-line and cool undertones. The color fits your skin tone and doesn't make you look like a living snowball, and the shape would deemphasize your boyish figure._

Eleanor looks around her closet in confusion. For all she cares, there are pinks, purples, and big skirts all around her. Whatever the hell “A-lines” and “cool undertones” are, Eleanor won’t have enough time to find out in the five minutes ( _or less; Mum could enter at any moment_ ) she has left to choose her outfit.

 

_What are cool undertones? <_

 

* * *

Somewhere in the United States of America instead of England, Kaede Akiyama stares at his screen to the mind-numbingly stupid thing his uncultured “friend” just said to him. His attention, once focused on getting ahead of his intellectual peers at school by studying (and _not_ doodling dresses that'll look beautiful on Eleanor, _thank you very_ _much_ ), his mind completely empties at the reply. _What did she just say to me???_

* * *

 

 

Eleanor doesn't get a response after five minutes her message was sent, her friend probably dying of second-hand embarrassment or something pretentious fashion people feel all the time.  Putting away her phone in her pockets, she starts to feel the nervousness of her situation start to get the best of her again.

 

Eleanor shouldn’t be feeling this way, she _knows she shouldn’t_. Parties have always been the same ever since she could remember. She _knows_ how every birthday party occurs, how each time, the parties praise how her mum raised the birthday girl. How, even if her mum makes more of a spectacle of herself, the terrifying spotlight is still on Eleanor. How, no matter what, every meticulous detail is done by the mum, no room for Eleanor’s mistake.

 

Eleanor should feel used to this. _Calm down, or mum will notice. This is just like any other birthday party. Get over it._

 

She catches herself scratching her neck out of habit, something mum wanted her to stop with. _It makes you look like a mess dear_ , her sweet voice repeats in Eleanor's mind. _You don't want people to think lower of you, do you?_

 

Eleanor subconsciously straightens her back. _I shouldn't have stalled to choose an outfit until the last minute_. Despite stopping herself to pull at her neck, they return around the opposite arm, nails tightening against the pale skin. Even with all the time Eleanor could have prepared with what she was allowed to do, she still procrastinated the inevitable.

 

So many choices, too many wrong. Make mum proud in the expense of Eleanor's freedom.

 

Eleanor's breathing quickens. Eyes travel directionless, panicked and unsure of how to be what mum expects of her. A perfect girl. The perfect image of a beautiful English Rose. The young starlet like her mother herself.

 

Eleanor breathing hitches when she hears heels loudly click against the hard floors leading to her room. _Shit, she can't see me like this_. Eleanor's hands, once clutching her arms like braces (she avoids confrontation by quickly healing her bloody nail imprints), skate across her dressing robe in a quick effort to seem collected.

 

“ _Eleanor_!” rings through the hallway to her room, getting closer by each second.

 

Eleanor zips towards the closet door to close it, before freezing as it turns in front of her, Eleanor’s mum crossing the finished line first. Eleanor stands stunned like a statue, before recollecting her thoughts and posture.

 

As Lady Evergreen enters into the room, wearing a flowing, wine-colored dress that is tight around her waist. Unusual to Eleanor, as her mum usually wears something more elaborate and intricate. Red Tudor roses adorn her crown as her hair is in its usual extravagant waves. Eleanor feels her cheeks fluster as she stands in front of her mum, still in her simple dress robe.

 

Eleanor's mum's fuchsia lips curl slightly, but not too much to avoid wrinkles. “Oh Eleanor, why are you standing around still in your robe, darling?” Her eyes shine with pity towards her daughter. “Did you forget to get your dress for your own birthday party?” Her inquiring tone makes Eleanor flush harder and look away from the patronizing eyes of her mother.

 

Eleanor stands stiffly as toes curl in shame. “Sorry mum, I was just going to decide-” Eleanor's hand reaches towards the first dress she sees. “-decide on this, yes.” She tries not to cringe at the extensive sparkles that assault her eyes.

 

Fortunately for Eleanor’s eyesight, her mum disagrees with Eleanor's fast choice. “How about, instead of _this_ ,” Eleanor ignores how her mum scratches her as she yanks the dress away, “You wear something that would look much better on you?” Her mum’s arm Eleanor wasn’t paying attention to reaches out to show her what she’s holding. Eleanor doesn't know how she didn't see the hanger on her mum's other hand.

 

The dress Eleanor's mum holds is something red and tight around the waist, similar to what Lady Evergreen wears. Seeing the tight waist, Eleanor grows uncomfortable. She hopes her wrapped arms around herself aren't obvious. The hem falls to the ground, long enough to make Eleanor see herself trip on already.  A pair of heels hangs by next to the dress, pointy enough to be painful and tall enough to have Eleanor stumbling at every graceless step.

 

Still, despite her repulsion, Eleanor holds her tongue, the bites in her mouth familiar. Eleanor's mum continues speaking, “See how much prettier it is compared to what you chose? It's okay that you can't chose a beautiful dress for yourself. That’s why _I’m_ here to fix your every choice, darling.”

 

Eleanor ignores the sweet advice. “I'm sorry mum, I'll chose the rest of my-”

 

“ _Nonono_ , darling. If you can’t choose a good outfit, what will that say of your choice of _accessories_?” A haughty laugh rings through the dressing room, as if that was the most hilarious thing Lady Evergreen has ever heard. “I want to make sure you’ll look your best with moi. And your best is _my_ choice!”

 

Eleanor knows she can’t choose any better than her own mother on this subject, so she nods her head silently. Eleanor’s mum puts the red gown and shoes into her daughter’s arms. “Good, good. Now, go change. What’s the point in me getting you a beautiful dress if you wear your hideous bath robe?” She declares as she exits out of the dressing room. Her heels clack against the cold tile as Lady Evergreen steps away.

 

Eleanor watches her mum click the door shut. Once she locks the door, Eleanor loses her calm façade, slipping a ragged breath she didn’t know Eleanor was holding. Her eyebrows furrow as shoulders slump. The dress in her hand feels soft, but that doesn’t make her hands stop clutching it rough.

 

Eventually (and despite her repulsion), Eleanor studies herself in a full-length mirror with the gown and heels on. The dress is nice, maybe even pretty. But it’s not Eleanor’s style. It looks even worse on her since she stands unsure of herself(“ _Stand beautiful and confidently, or don’t stand in front at all!”)._ The neckline isn’t low, but it tries to show off enough that Eleanor cringes. The only thing that stops Eleanor’s pale chest to be shown is a sheer fabric that itches against her collarbone. The waist, unfortunately, is tight against herself. For a brief moment, Eleanor is glad that her mum takes meticulous attention of her bodily measurements, otherwise she’d be breathing harder than what is considered pretty. Her eyes travel past the hips, just as tight and makes her just as uncomfortable. Like she thought, the dress falls past her shin and only barely touching the ground, to show off the heels. All ready to hate the dress, her eyes trail away from the dress and back to her actual self.

 

The first thing she notices is how large her shoulders and arms are. Despite the fact Eleanor’s mum supports her defense classes and tournaments, she criticizes how Eleanor is losing her feminine frames to slight muscle definition. At first, Eleanor thought her arms were of normal size, if not slightly toned. But the more she examined her body, the more self-conscious of how bulky her arms are, how she is neither femininely thin nor powerfully muscular, but instead a weird, insecure limbo. The dress doesn’t help either, with no sleeves to help emphasize the thin frame Eleanor’s mum wanted her to have.

 

Her hands wrap around herself as her eyes instead focus on her waist. Despite the fact it was supposed to emphasize her figure, Eleanor didn’t have much in the first place. All it does is tighten against her boyish frame in a vain attempt to show off nothing. Eleanor’s mum has criticized that about her daughter. More than enough times has she said to stop focusing on gaining a strong body and instead a curved figure.

 

A subject she doesn’t want to focus on anymore, Eleanor takes an experimental step with the heels and long dress. Almost immediately, she stumbles towards the glass mirror. She could have healed herself quickly if glass did cut herself and the mirror itself (though, harder if the individual pieces of glass were to be scattered everywhere), but explaining the loud noise to her mum would be a situation Eleanor didn’t want to deal with.

 

 _I can’t do this. I’m going to make a fool of myself and mum._ As guilty as she would feel later, Eleanor has to find a way to not wear these horrid heels. Fortunately for her, Jerry bought her a pair of flats (“Leah, that is _ridiculous_ that every shoe you own have heels. Come on, let’s go to the closest clothing store for a pair of _actual_ everyday shoes.”) and hid it in an unused shoe box originally for a pair of ( _ugh)_ heels. Slipping of the ones still on her feet, Eleanor goes searches for the shoe box. Fortunately, she finds it quickly and puts on the pair just as fast.

 

She opens the shoe box to a pair of simple, white flats with no more than an inch for heels. Eleanor had only worn it once, at a smaller party that was just as frivolous as its purpose, but she felt guilty of hiding the pair of secret flats. Eleanor still feels grateful  for Jerry to buy the pair for her, but hiding the flats on her shoes was harder to play than to keep her ladylike façade. In this moment though, Eleanor saw it as either a humiliating trip that will eventually anger her mum like last time, or a small white lie that will save her mum’s reputation in the party.

 

Despite only wearing the heels for a few minutes, Eleanor lets out a sigh of relief once the pair of flats slip onto her feet. She still feels guilty of the lie to her mother, but the comfortable shoes make the shame simmer down.

 

Her silence gets interrupted by a loud knock on her closet door. “ _Darling_ ,” says the muffled voice of Eleanor’s mum, “You’re taking a while to change. I’m sure you didn’t get _that_ fat the moment I left.” Eleanor cheeks redden as she hears her mum on the other side of the room laugh at her jest.

 

“Sorry mum-” Eleanor kicks the painful heels under a messy pile of dresses she never got to clean,“-I just finished.” Despite her guilt, Eleanor takes a deep break and adopts her familiar façade of calm and grace. Stepping outside the dressing room, Eleanor uses the last seconds of privacy to straighten her dress and back to please her mother.

 

As expected, Eleanor’s mum turns around to look at her daughter. Eleanor herself tries not to break under the pressure of her mum’s glaze. After a tense moment, Eleanor’s mum approaches her with a winning smile. “Oh, my English Rose, you look _just_ like your beautiful mother!” Eleanor passes a small smile, ignoring the underlying self-compliment.

 

Eleanor watches her mum’s face fall slightly, warning signs run through her mind at the sight. “ _But_ …” Eleanor tries not to flinch at the intruding hand that grasps her arm. “Your arms and shoulder look large. I _thought_ we discussed about working out your body…” Eleanor doesn’t miss her mum’s green eyes narrow at her large arms.

 

Not willing to fight with her mum, Eleanor looks down in shame, feeling worse about her own body. “Sorry mum, I’ll work harder to avoid that next time.” To her relief, her mum’s hand stops clasping around her arm.

 

Eleanor’s mum pats her cheek as if she were a small child. “Of course, darling. Now, let’s take care of your hair and make-up” Eleanor’s head turns as it’s held by her mum’s nails, Lady Evergreen inspecting several perspectives of her daughter’s makeup-less face. “I do believe, a pink flush would look great on you.” Eleanor stays silent, unwilling to state her own differing opinion and unsure whether she knows any better in the first place.

 

Lady Evergreen lets go of Eleanor hand to lead her to the vanity. Eleanor, knowing her queue, sits down without interfering and waits for her mum to decide what she would look like. Her eyes travel to the mirror’s reflection. No longer wanting to watch her hesitant eyes, Eleanor instead focuses on her mum as she digs through a make-up bag she got.

 

Eleanor stays frozen as her mum moves a dark pink eye-shadow across her eyelid. Moving would be a mistake, as her mum wouldn’t dare her daughter to allow or make. Staying still meant the mask would be what her mum wants her to look. After Eleanor feels the last brush of mascara on her lashes, she slowly opens her eyes again to her face. Green eyes surrounded by pink stare back at here, still frozen for her mum. As much as Eleanor hates it, she can still see the trapped, nervous feeling in her eyes. Eleanor’s mum steps in front of her for the lipstick, making Eleanor no longer see her pitiful reflection. She briefly sees a pink lipstick before she could feel it apply onto her face.

 

“There you go Eleanor. Makeup just as beautiful as your mother,” compliments Lady Evergreen, already taking out a hairbrush. “Now, I would have styled your bland brown hair-” She brushes a hesitant hand down through Eleanor’s hair. “-but because of your late start, we’ll just have to do a more simple look.”

 

Eleanor can’t help but feel shameful of herself because of the inconvenience she made. Even though Eleanor is fine with just a simple look, she can feel the disappointment from her mother at the lack of care towards her look. Eleanor tries to explain herself. “I’m sorry mum, I-”

 

“Nonono. I don’t want excuses. I want silence and _perfect_ posture,” Lady Evergreen interjects with a inflection for emphasis. Eleanor follows her mum’s word, immediately shutting up and putting all focus on pleasing her mother. She stays still, even when the hairbrush pulls her head harshly. Her mouth stays silent, even if the brush sways her strands of hair in an unlikable style.

 

Eleanor feels the brush for the last time and her mum’s crawling eyes look at her face and hair. Eleanor does the same to her face when it meets her in the vanity mirror. Just as Eleanor’s mum said, her hair is simply brushed, albeit a different style than she’s used to. She doesn’t get the chance to inspect it more, as Eleanor’s mum interrupts her thoughts, saying,“ _Upupup_! I want to see my English Rose stand!”

 

As her mum commands her to, Eleanor gets up from the vanity chair, back and shoulders straight. Just as her mum had taught her, she raises her head high, a smirk crosses her face. Her posture and expression is perfectly frozen, except for her eyes, which follow her mum as she inspects her daughter.

 

No more than a minute passes when Eleanor feels one of her shoulders be grasped, almost flinching at the feeling of her mum’s sharp nails. “Don’t raise your shoulders too much; They make you look like a man,” she instructs, shoving Eleanor’s shoulders down. Eleanor bites her tongue down.

 

“ _Now_ you look perfect.” Eleanor feels the nails separate its clutch from her arm. Without changing her expression, she simply nods, elegant and feminine as her mum wants it to be.

 

“As much as I want to look at my beautiful daughter, that last hour before your birthday party is still open for last minute preparations.” Eleanor watches her mum go to her bedroom door. “Don’t ruin your makeup. I know it’s hard for you to be as elegant as your mother, but practice makes perfect!” she says lastly before exiting the room finally.

 

Eleanor’s eyes stay at the door, waiting to see if her mum is truly gone. A moment passes, before she slouches again. The makeup feels fake against her skin, more so than usual. It’s as if her mum even changed the usual amount of blush and eye-shadow on herself. _At least she didn’t change my hair much…_

The only thing left to do now is to prep for the birthday party and to wait. Eleanor can feel a burning pit in her gut.

 

* * *

 

Various glass drinks clink against each other as voices and laughter fill the room. A chandelier hangs, brightly emitting a golden light. Women’s floral perfume is present in the air, both soft and strong to the nose. Sleek dresses and midnight black suits dance across the floor, graceful like a ballerina stepping across. Just as Lady Evergreen has planned it, everything is planned exactly how it was supposed to be, perfect down to each inch.

 

It feels all fake to Eleanor, more like a stage of actors than her sixteenth birthday party.

 

 _Wasn’t there a poem or something Shakespeare wrote like that?_ Eleanor struggles to remember, only a faint memory of someone explaining her of the symbolism or whatever. She usually doesn’t care about those subjects, her indifference obvious, but in a moment like this, Eleanor would be willing to think about anything else than the discomfort of her situation.

 

Eleanor’s mum taps a glass with a fork, catching the attention all the invitees. The small orchestra at the side stop playing, too. Eleanor, standing next to her mum, struggles to keep a smile any longer at the hundreds of party-goer’s faces.

 

With a winning smile, Lady Evergreen announces, “Thank you _all_ for coming to Eleanor Emily Evergreen’s sixteenth birthday party! It means _so_ much for each one of my associates, friends, and business partners to experience this with me!” People start to clap, it ringing through the room. “As the heiress of our name, I cannot be _more_ proud as to see my English Rose grow into a beautiful and smart woman like her mother!” At her humorous comment, various people chuckle at the joke.

 

As people continue to laugh and Lady Evergreen to continue her speech, Eleanor slowly loses the little amount of attention she had in the first place. With dozens of eyes on her, Eleanor forces herself to not hide her arms, to stand still. But no matter what, her façade is surely going to be seen clearly through any second. The flats on her feet feel less like shoes and more like knives, painful on her feet and able to catch attention from anyone who’s looking. Eleanor can already hear the judgmental whispers, low murmurs from the women on the crowd judging her hair and men eyeing her toned arms in disdain. Her pale skin makes Eleanor look like a sick, malnourished child, disturbingly out of place in the lavish event. Everything about herself looks out of place, any minute now somebody will notic-

 

A hand clamps down on Eleanor’s shoulder. “Now as much as I would _love_ to talk more about how my English Rose made me to be what a great person I became, let us go _celebrate_!” Eleanor watches as people disperse away from Lady Evergreen, some going back to their conversations while others dance to the music.

 

Eleanor stands still, her mum still holding tightly onto her shoulder. Eleanor’s mum then starts to speak, “Now darling, this is not only a party to celebrate your birthday, but also a way for you to meet your future business associates. I expect you to make some friends, _or_ get to meet your soon-to-be-suitor.” Eleanor can feel a small amount of  disgust and shock betray her mask. _Oh fuck no._ Her nails, already fossils in her palm, tighten against the skin even harder, a wince tries to force itself through Eleanor’s clenched teeth.

 

Staring back at her mum’s face, Eleanor cannot see any way she can convince her mum other-wise. Eleanor, with hesitation, answers, “…Yes, mum.” In satisfaction, Eleanor’s mum releases her daughter’s shoulder with a knowing look. 

 

“Good,  I do believe _one_ is already wanting to meet you,” Eleanor’s mum says, turning Eleanor’s jaw to face a somewhat older boy walk toward Eleanor with an annoyingly confident face. “Have fun darling!” Eleanor is quickly left alone, her mum abandoning her before Eleanor can object. _Oh fuck…_

Strutting his way over to Eleanor, the first thing see sees is his stupid face. She skims over a blond mop of hair she can tell has at least five gallons of gel in, a long nose and chin that’s pointing up, emotionless grey eyes that stare straight into Eleanor’s, and a stupid smirk that reminds her of her “friend”. _At least Kae was fun to talk to sometimes, this bastard looks like he never stops fucking talking,_ Eleanor thinks to herself. She talks a small glance at the suit he’s wearing. _Eugh, Kae knew how to dress better too._

 

The boy stops only a step away from her, already butting into Eleanor’s privacy and it hasn’t even been a minute yet. With a subtle step away from him, Eleanor widens her smile, both to not embarrass her mum but to maybe somehow convince the boy ‘oh my god this girl’s crazy’.

 

“Having fu-?”

 

“You don’t happen to know me, so I would introduce myself first for you, darling-” _Oh bloody hell no._

“My full name would be Chadwick Aaron Mordecai Winthrop, but for you-” _Fuck you._ “-you can call me Chad, darling.” As if to impress Eleanor, he shows his teeth, not unlike of a shark.

Eleanor, somehow still smiling, struggling to not bite back at him. With all the willpower she has left, she strains, “…Good to know… _Chad_. I _do_ apologize though, I am a bit… _parched_.” A lie, since Eleanor drank plenty of water per her mum’s instructions, but Chad doesn’t know that. “Would you be a _dear_ and get me something to drink from the buffet, _please_?” Eleanor sweetens her voice, similar to how her mum convinces people. She tilts her head aside, looking more sweet and vulnerable to exploit.

 

Like a fish with bait, Chadwick eyes across Eleanor’s smaller form and says, “Of course, darling. It’ll be a second.” He turns away, stupidly confident in his steps as Eleanor watches him go. She smirks in enjoyment for her trick, the first she’d felt today. _Idiot._

 

Eleanor is left alone again, and she almost regrets tricking Chad away. _Dammit, at least I’d have something to do instead of nothing._ Eleanor continues to stand awkwardly where she was. Her hands grasp themselves behind her back.

 

Distracted, she doesn’t notice another figure shift next to her. Before she can, they ask, “Are you bored?”

 

At the question, Eleanor snaps her head, puzzled at the person next to her. She stares straight into a pair of big, brown eyes on a young boy, short enough to even be as "tall" as her 5 feet of height. She skims over his face, adorned with a small, bumpy nose, dark skin covered in freckles, and even darker hair, slightly tousled. She would have expected this boy to be a suitor of hers, but his young face and short stature makes him look no older than thirteen.

 

The boy is still waiting for an answer, for some reason attentive for what Eleanor would answer. “Uh,” She stumbles, internally wincing at her awkwardness. “Um, I am not exactly doing anything, no.” Eleanor looks at the boy with doubt, silently asking him, _why do you care?_

 

He turns away from Eleanor, a smile inching his face a little. As if reading her mind, he responds, “I don’t happen to have anything else to do either; Parties aren’t my thing.” There’s a slight tone in the boy’s voice that Eleanor cannot identify.

 

She hums in response, in agreement and consideration. Almost desperate to talk, Eleanor blurts out, “It honestly feels too much. I don’t have much importance to say about what’s too much because - well, _rich_ -” Eleanor points at herself, making the boy smirk unevenly, “-but even when I grew up like this, it’s just making a bigger deal about some stupid party about a st-about a girl.” Eleanor hopes the other doesn’t hear her stumble. Her hands, still holding each other, are now tight together.

 

If he did hear, the boy doesn’t bring it up. In fact, he doesn’t speak at all, leaving Eleanor silent again. She’s watching various dancers when she hears, “Farid Kumar.”

 

She looks at him, puzzled again. “What?”

 

“I didn’t tell you my name; My name is Farid Kumar.” Farid introduces himself again, more formally. To emphasize it, he holds out a firm hand for Eleanor to shake.

 

Eleanor almost laughs at Farid, not out of malice but of endearment. Even though he’s about three years younger than her, Farid acts more polite than any boy she’s ever met.

 

Wanting to humor him and to make a new friend who isn’t 1. creepy and 2. annoying, Eleanor reaches out her hand to hold Farid’s.

 

“Oh darling, did you meet one of your suitors?” Lady Evergreen interrupts, making Eleanor freeze and Farid jump. Eleanor’s mind stalls at what her mum said. _Suitor???_ Her shoulders, once relaxed when she was talking to Farid, raises in shock. Her hands quickly turn into fists. Eleanor would have been be hurt and angry if the “suitor” in front of her didn’t look just as confused.

 

If anything, Farid looks more horrified at the claim than confused. He’d shown more emotion on his face than the short amount of time he was talking to Eleanor. His eyes look even bigger, widened with narrowed pupils. Eleanor can see his jaw is clench tense. He even seems to have wrinkled his nose at the claim. Eleanor didn’t believe a thing, though. _That bloody liar._

 

Eleanor is silent, unable to say anything that wouldn’t come out as awkward or angry. Farid quickly changes his form from horrified to his previous politeness. “Good evening, Lady Evergreen.” Like with Eleanor, he sticks his hand out stiffly for a handshake.

 

Amused, Lady Evergreen responds, “Good evening, Farid. Trying to court my daughter?” Eleanor watches Farid once again grows uncomfortable. _And he still pretends._

 

Wanting to save what little dignity she and Farid has left, Eleanor blurts out, “No mum, we were just conversing in a friendly, non-romantic manner. Thank you for your concern, but nothing of that sort is happening.” Eleanor would correct herself in a more graceful manner, but she felt desperate to separate herself from Farid as quickly as she could.

 

Lady Evergreen retorts, “Well that’s  bit rude, isn’t it Eleanor? Maybe you’re disregarding Farid’s advances, and you’re being unnecessarily cruel to him?” She makes a fake pout on her face. Eleanor faces away from her mum’s, both in shame and frustration. “What are you going to do Eleanor, dance with Farid or lose a potential connection? You don’t want to make me disappointed, do you?”

 

Eleanor forces out,  “...Do you want to dance, Farid,” minimal in politeness. Her hand is held out to propose him, but it lacks any true invitation. She doesn’t dare look at her mum’s face, or Farid’s.

 

Farid himself is silent, annoying Eleanor more by each second. She was going to bark back at him when he responds dully, “Okay.” His hand feels weird in Eleanor’s, her leading the way to dance. She doesn’t try to not stomp her way there, nor does she care that she’s basically yanking Farid.

 

Wanting to get this over with, Eleanor positions her hands already around Farid’s. He lets her do so, hands clumsy on Eleanor. She takes the first step forward, Farid takes his step back with her, and they stiffly dance in silence.

 

Farid is looking down at their feet the whole time, most definitely avoiding Eleanor’s fiery glare at him. Her hands are tense against his, unsubtle about her anger. Eleanor almost wishes that Farid would do something wrong, so she can have a real reason for letting all of her anger at him. _Try to kiss me, insult me, do something wrong you fucking coward, do anything so I can kick you, you bloody-_

 

Right as she thinks of that Farid leans his head close her. She inhales sharply and is prepares herself to yell at him. “I’m sorry for this”, Farid whispers to her, shame evident in his voice.

 

Eleanor’s eyebrows are raised in shock, before furrowing back in spite. “Sure you’re sorry; Bet you planned this and regret being in the woman’s position, too.” Eleanor retorts, getting some satisfaction in Farid realizing what position he’s in. Just as venomous , she snarls, “Thought you would have realized, with my hand on your hip, but this is what you get for manipulating-”

 

“I don’t like you,” Farid announces, almost shouting louder than the music. He looks horrified by what he exclaimed, before correcting himself, “I mean, I do like you, but I don’t _like-like_ you and I _definitely_ didn’t plan this. I’m sorry.”

 

Eleanor, skeptical, interrogates him, “Then what the hell were you doing a few minute ago then? Aren’t you a bit too young for me anyways?”

 

“You looked lonely, and I already established that I don’t like parties, so I thought we could have talked – _in a platonic way_.” Farid answers. “Also, I’m _only_ a month away from being fourteen. I’m not _too young_ for you.”

 

They’re both silent. “That didn’t help my claim,” Farid says to himself.

 

“That did not,” Eleanor confirms.

 

“I’m _sorry_.”

 

“You just said that three times,” Eleanor says, an amused smile forming on her face. She doesn't like her current situation at all, but Far is doesn't seem to feel accomplished at his "plan".

 

“I’m so-” Farid stops himself before he can finish, starting to giggle. He emits an uneven laugh that sounds weird but endearing, causing Eleanor to chuckle in response.

 

“Alright, I believe you. But pull one move on me, and I punch you back to your yacht, Kumar.” Eleanor fake-punches Farid’s shoulder for emphasis. “I take specialized classes; Your thirteen year old body would fall apart in _seconds_.”

 

Farid laughs again, harder than last time. When he stops, Farid responds, “Don’t worry. When I said I didn’t like you, it meant several things.”

 

She looks to his face, realization evident on her face. “Oh,” She says dumbly. “I mean – I’m the same way, so – _but with girls_! I don’t mess with males,” Eleanor rambles.

 

Farid is smiling, familiar to how Eleanor is feeling. “So, we’re cool? No weird nonexistent romantic tension?”

 

Eleanor grins back, her fears gone. “We’re cool.”

 

“Good. Can we just go back to being new friends and ask each other questions to past time? I don’t like parties _or_ dancing.” Farid asks.

 

Eleanor replies, “Aright, but you ask first; I’m bad at asking shit.” Farid nods in agreement, thinking to himself.

 

“What’s your favorite color?” Farid asks.

 

 _Simple question,_ Eleanor thinks. She hums to herself before answering, “I guess dark green is my favorite. It looks nice.” She pauses to think of a question. Choosing something easy, Eleanor asks, “What about you? What’s yours?”

 

“I like blue. It’s calming. What’s your favorite flower?” Farid says, with little break in between.

 

Eleanor pauses. “Not roses. Everyone expects me to like them because I’m English and they’re pretty, but I think they’re overrated. I honestly don’t have a favorite to be honest.”

  
“Hm. I would have thought you liked violets,” Farid jokes. Eleanor stares back at him with a bemused look. “…They’re associated with Sapphic love?” Farid mentioned.

 

“Oh. I guess I like violets then,” Eleanor shrugged. “What flower do you like?”

 

Farid’s face lights up to the question almost immediately. “Only choosing one? That’ll be hard between chocolate cosmos, heliconias, or the flame lily.”

  
  
“…Cool,” Eleanor replies. “I have no idea what those are.”

 

Farid hilariously grimaces. “they’re rather weird flowers, yeah.” He hums to himself to think of a question. He then starts asking, “What’s your favorite type of candy?”

 

“Everybody likes chocolate,” Eleanor jokes, eyes glancing several times from Farid's chocolate eyes to the huge chocolate fountain. “Do you always ask simple questions?”

 

Farid doesn’t seem hurt by her question. If anything, he smirks at it. “Look who’s talking! You’ve just been repeating mine!”

 

Eleanor rolls her eyes, not with any animosity though. “Fine, I’ll be more creative.” She pauses to think of something, before asking, “Any siblings?”

 

“Yes, I have an older sister and am older brother. Shahid and Sultana should be _eee_ …” Farid looks around the room, head whipping around. “… _eeerr_ right there!” Eleanor turns to her side.

 

Her eyes land on a pair of siblings, one a man taller than a woman. They’re both talking to each other, but Eleanor focuses on the latter. Sultana, Eleanor assumes, looks like Farid, both having big eyes and many freckles. Unlike Farid, Sultana has a narrow but broad nose and a thinner face. Her hair is free, with gold clips holding small braids up. Her dress is modern looking, a teal color that complements her dark skin. Shahid, Eleanor assumes, says something funny, causing Sultana to laugh. Even though she can’t hear it over the music and other people, Eleanor still blushes at Sultana laughing.

 

“How old is she?” Eleanor asks Farid, still staring at the other girl. Realizing she’s doing so, Eleanor turns her head back at Farid, whose looking at her with curious look.

 

“She’s seventeen. Why?”

 

“No reason-” A lie, obviously. “Hey Farid, if I said I wanted to dance with Sultana because I’m a lesbian, would you let me?”

 

Farid looks back at her with confusion before he goes ‘Ohhhh’. “I mean, she’s almost an adult, she can make her own choices. And I trust you sooo…” Farid shrugs. “I mean it’s a bit weird for  you to ditch me for my sister, but you’re not going to, like, marry her the second you dance,” Farid jokes.

 

“Just one dance,” Eleanor repeats lightheartedly. As she walks away, Eleanor jokes, “It’s not you, it’s your sister, and she’s pretty as hell.”

 

Turning away, Eleanor laughs when she hears Farid retort, “That’s fair, but if you hurt her, I’ll punch you all the way to _your_ yacht.”

 

Walking up to Sultana, Eleanor realizes she has no idea what she was going to do. _Shit I’m just walking up to Sultana with nothing to say shitshitshitshit-_

 

“Enjoying the party you two?” Eleanor says without thinking. She almost stutters the words clumsily, but she tries to play it cool. She does her best with smiling formally at the two. Both are taller than her, Sharid about a foot higher and Eleanor can see she is only at eye level with Sultana.

 

Shalid and Sultana pause, before the latter replies, “Going swell. Happy birthday. Eleanor, right?” Shalid, to the side, raises a champagne glass silently, seemingly the quieter of the two.

 

“Right, and thank you Sultana.” Eleanor nods.

 

Sultana's eyebrow raises. “Already know my name? I don’t believe we’ve met before. I would have remembered talking to someone as pretty as you,” Sultana flirts, causing Eleanor to flush red again. Sharid looks alarmed, and stares at Sultana.

 

Surely red as her dress, Eleanor tells Sultana, “I met your younger brother, Farid. He also told me about Sharid, too. He’s a sweet kid. I think he really likes flowers.”

 

At that, Sharid rolls his eyes. For the first time to Eleanor, he talks and says, “Yes, he likes plants and flowers. Cares more about them than normal if to be honest.”

 

Eleanor admits to herself, she was taken aback to Sharid’s honesty, but once Sultana laughes at his comment, she forgets everything she was going to say. Sultana rolls her eyes, the most she looked like her older brother, and added, “He’d always been a stick in the mud, even when little, I am not surprised he would love nature more than life too.”

 

Sultana continues, “Farid never liked fun stuff. Rather funny too, if you consider how I am.” She winks at Eleanor, who by now is scarlet. “Speaking of fun; You want to dance? Surely, a birthday girl like you would like to dance.”

 

Eleanor’s brain stalls on thinking, too overloaded with prettiness. _Holy shit, a really pretty girl just asked me to dance with her._ Shahid interrupts her thought process with a hissed, “ _Sultana_.” He comes close to his sister’s hear, a hushed but quick whisper in, what Eleanor thinks is, Hindi. Sultana whispers back, just as quick but half as negative, almost playful.

 

Eleanor watches the siblings. Sultana must have said something that swayed Shahid, her staring at her brother with a smug smirk and him looking back at her with a crinkled nose and narrowed eyes. It’s a second of silence, before Shahid shot back, almost poisonously, “Fine. Do have fun dancing.” He leaves the two alone, disappearing into the crowd.

 

Eleanor turns to Sultana, confused and almost hurt by his coldness, until she sees Sultana roll her eyes at her brother. “I say Farid is a stick in the mud, but Sharid never knows how to have fun too.” She smiles, something chaotic and mischievous. “I just happen to be the best sibling, yes?”

 

Eleanor nods dumbly at her rhetorical question, mouth drier each time Sultana speaks. At her, Sultana laughs ( _oh god how much blood am I going to have left outside my cheeks),_ and pulls Eleanor away.

 

“Come! You can dance too right, birthday girl?” Sultana jokes, already placing a hand on Eleanor’s waist. A small squeak escapes her lips, before wrapping her hands on Sultana’s.

 

Touching her fingers and palm, Eleanor didn’t realize how many of callouses her own were present. She would’ve focused on it more if Sultana’s weren’t _so fucking soft_. _Does she use moisturizer every hour?,_ Eleanor gayly panicked. To avoid becoming a living pile of sludge, Eleanor tears her focus on Sultana’s eyes.

 

 _Which are magnificent…_ Sultana, as Eleanor can see, has the same eyes as Farid. Unlike him though, Sultana’s are darker, while Farid’s were more like hazel. Her lashes are also longer, magnified by eyeliner and mascara. Eleanor thinks back to her own makeup, wishing that it was more her own style (or none at all).

 

With Sultana several inches taller than Eleanor, the natural alignment her eyes fall straight is to Sultana’s lips, coaxed in a dark red, coincidentally like Eleanor’s skin flushed.

 

It hasn’t even been more than five minutes and Eleanor can already feel her knees going weak and heart thumping against her chest loudly. _Holy shit I am so gay._ Sultana is close to Eleanor, with several ways she’s touching Sultana. The worst thing is, Sultana herself is looking casual, as if she isn’t aware for Eleanor’s panic.

 

“You’re very red. Am I that pretty?” Sultana teases. “Or are you easily impressed?”

 

Struggling to not turn into a love-struck mess, Eleanor stutters, “Y-You can dance ver-pretty well.”

 

Sultana hums. “Thank you. I practice.” She pushes her torso towards Eleanor’s more, making her squeak. “But I don’t think it’s my dancing that’s making you so red, Eleanor.” Sultana shows of her teeth again, surrounded by a cat-like smile. Feeling braver and more self-reliant than any moment before, Eleanor decides to flirt back.

 

“I-”

 

“ _What_ are you doing, Eleanor?” snaps Lady Evergreen, immediately splitting Eleanor and Sultana apart. Eleanor, shocked, snaps her attention to her mother. “I didn’t want you to _socialize_ just to dance with _her_.” Almost like fire, Lady Evergreen’s fuchsia lips are scowled, draconian teeth snarling at Eleanor. Her pink makeup in the golden light looks more like fire, hot and burning like her anger.

 

Eleanor doesn’t know what to do. Frozen in her spot, she freezes up for too long to think of a good excuse or reason. Her skin, once flushed because of Sultana, is paler than even its original tone. Her hand is clenched once again, nails digging itself deeper than before.

 

To her side, Sultana looks dismissive. She’s crossing her arms and doesn’t look at Lady Evergreen or Eleanor. The only part of her expression than doesn’t look bored are her eyebrows, furrowed against each other.

 

From the small crowd surrounded the three, Eleanor can hear Farid interrupt, “Lady Evergreen, please, your daughter-”

 

“Don’t tell me about my own daughter, _Kumar_. If you had been _more_ a man, you wouldn’t have to fail at _courting_ Eleanor,” Lady Evergreen barks, malice spitting onto Farid. Despite stubbornness present on his face and no reaction from Lady Evergreen’s insult at him, he looks at Eleanor for what to do next.

  
_Please, don’t Farid._ Eleanor, yearns more in this moment to be able to telepathically speak to people. _Please don’t try to argue with her._

 

Farid stares at Eleanor’s desperate eyes. He hesitates, before backing off from Lady Evergreen. It left her with Eleanor to confront. She walks up to Eleanor, each click of her heel a jump from Eleanor’s heart.

 

“ _Go_ to your room. We will discuss this _later_ ,” Eleanor’s mum hissed, low to Eleanor’s ear but a clear command. A warning.

 

Not wanting to upset her mother or herself anymore, Eleanor walks her way out the room, tears in her eyes and blood from her palms.

 

* * *

 

“ _What_ were you doing with _her_?” Lady Evergreen demands, a second after jamming Eleanor’s bedroom door closed. Eleanor herself is sitting on her bed, not even out of her dress. Too shocked and frustrated with emotions to change, she feels even dirtier than any other time her mother had talked to her.

 

Voice croaky from trying not to cry, Eleanor apologizes, “I’m sorr-”

 

“I.Don’t. _Want_.Your.Apologies. _Eleanor_!” She jumps at her mum’s outburst, fearful to move any more than even am inch. Her palm, once bleeding from her nails, eventually healed themselves, but it may turn to be futile, crescents already deep in her hands again.

 

“This was a chance for _you_ to get to know your _suitors_. To help _me_ get to know _our_ _business partners_. _You_ wasted this _chance_! And to dance with some _girl_? _What_ is _wrong_ with you?!” Lady Evergreen stomps around the room, the heels like an ominous clock. Eleanor tries to focus on that instead of the tears that threaten to spill.

 

“You’ve made an embarrassment of _yourself_ , but _most_ of all, you’ve made an embarrassment of _me_. For wasting _my_ time, _my_ planning, to be _uselessly_ acting out of order.” Eleanor’s mum hissed. “I hope you’re proud of what you’ve done, _Eleanor_.” Having the last word, Lady Evergreen turns around and strides herself to the door. Before opening it, she recollects herself to a more presentable posture and face. She opens the door outside, and just as quickly as she changed face, Lady Evergreen was out of Eleanor’s room.

 

Eleanor doesn’t know what she’s going to do. Slouched on her bed, her pathetic sniffs are the only things that are stopping herself from breaking down and crying. She needs a distraction, something to keep her mind of her _motherandSultanaandembarrassementand-_

She can almost _scream_. Eleanor can open her mouth _right_ _now_ , and a shriek will ring like a banshee. Tears blur her vision and she wishes, _just for a second_ , to stop feeling _so_ much.

 

Eleanor jumps from her bed, scrambling to her changing room. _Where is my phone._ Quickly to her left over bathrobe, she yanks her phone from the pocket, typing to the closest contact that could distract her.

 

_hey Kaede are you up <_

_i need to talk to you for a second <_

* * *

 

Somewhere in the United States, Kaede Akiyama’s phone vibrates at his side. He stares at it for a moment, unsure of whether to pick it up or not. Currently busy with homework, Kaede shouldn’t go on his phone, according to his mother.

 

He turns his head to the closed door, a rare moment when he can have privacy. Not that his house doesn’t have the room, but Kaede is never comfortable knowing his mother can check on him at any time she wants to.

 

The door is the only thing separating him from the “discussion” downstairs _. Too busy with sister, there will be an unlikely chance mother will catch me._ He looks back at his phone.

Kaede’s hand crawls to the phone, hesitant enough if any sudden figure were to go to his room. He opens the screen, eyes still on the door, before focusing on his text.

 

_hey Kaede are you up <_

_i need to talk to you for a second <_

 

Kaede rolls his eyes. _Her._ He notices how Eleanor decided to type in his actual name, instead of a nickname or an insult. A curious eyebrow raises at it, perplexed at the change of pattern and the seriousness of the text.

 

The yelling downstairs gets louder. Subtle cracks ring to Kaede’s ear, before the shouting gets even more distracting.

 

Kaede can’t help but clench his jaw in annoyance. Putting his phone down, almost dropping it, he ignores Eleanor. _She can handle herself._

* * *

 

Eleanor is pacing by this point, chewing at her thumb’s skin at her lack of response. The timer hits its 15 minute mark before Eleanor throws her phone to her bed in overwhelming anger.

 

 _God,_ she wants to cry so bad. No matter how many times Eleanor washes her face, paces around, change her clothing, pick at skin, heal the skin, nothing works to stopping her pathetic crying. She desperately starts to pull at strands of her hair, tears once again threatening to fall.

 

Eleanor can’t think of anything else to do but to call the only other person she trusts. _Call Jerry. He’ll know what to do._ Lacking any more sense of logic in her, Eleanor’s shaky hands scrolls to Jerry’s number. As she puts it to her ear, Eleanor sits down on her bed, her hand picking at one of her pant legs.

 

The phone rings four times, before she hears a voice gruffly answer, “ _H-hello, Leah? Why’re you calling me??? It’s like ten-” Oh thank god he’s awake._ Eleanor almost cries to his voice answering her, her throat choking against itself.

 

 “ _Jerry_ ”, Eleanor interrupts roughly, trying her best not to break down and cry.

 

He stops, dead silent on the other line. “ _Eleanor, are you okay_?” Jerry rushed, something creaking in the background as he moves out of bed.

 

“Can you pick me up? I don’t want to be here any longer,” Eleanor tells Jerry, already feeling calmer from hearing Jerry being concerned for her. “I know it’s late, I’m so sorry, but-”

 

“ _Hey, hey it’s okay. Um, let me just_ -” Jerry gets interrupted by muffle rustling, and at least one Spanish curse word Eleanor doesn’t know. “ _Leah – are you still there?”_

Eleanor is staring at her closed door. “Yeah.”

 

“ _Okay. I’m going to pick you up soon, but you got to sneak out. I’m not sure if I have the keys for the mansion with me.”_ Eleanor snorts at what she hears. It ends when she feels nervous about what Jerry said. His voice comforts, “ _Don’t worry, Leah. It’s okay if you don’t want to do thi-”_

 

“No. I’ll do it,” Eleanor finalizes, not wanting another second to be in the house. “Just, come quick. Please."

 

“ _I will, Eleanor. I’ll see you soon_ ,” Jerry reassures, a door opens in the background. “ _WAIT, SANTA HOLLY NO-”_

The phone call abruptly ends, leaving silence at both ends. Eleanor worryingly smiles at her phone, before putting it away in a pocket. She gets her flats again on her feet, and a sports bra under her shirt, preparing to leave.

 

 _Breathe in. Breathe out._ Jerry’s advice runs though Eleanor’s mind, preparing herself mentally. With the most self-assurance she’d felt the who day, Eleanor crack opens the door, slipping her head out.

 

As expected, everyone is still downstairs in the ballroom dancing. No one else is in sight, most importantly her mum. As best as she could, Eleanor paces quick to the stairway, her footsteps muffled by the music and her flats.

 

Fortunately, no one sees her, already traveled to the bottom of the stairs. The door outside is only a few feet away, definitely walkable in a short amount of time. Eleanor’s heart beats against her chest, almost loud enough to have someone notice. _If no one has caught me now, then I need to go at this moment._ More silent than ever, she takes slow steps to the front, all the way to end.

 

Eleanor’s phone vibrates. Picking it out of her pocket, Her phone has a text from Jerry.

 

_> I’m outside. :)_

 

 _Now’s my time._ Eleanor takes a deep breath, and then opens the door, skin immediately cold from the night. A few feet away is an unknown car, but exiting out of it is Jerry himself, waving as if Eleanor didn’t already see him.

 

A smile forms on her face at the older man outside. Wearing plaid sweatpants and a black t-shirt, Jerry looks barely out of bed. He carries a jacket, but isn’t wearing it himself. Even though he’s waving at her, Eleanor can still see him leading on the car tiredly.

 

None of this matters to her. Eleanor can finally talk to someone who can help her and it’s Jerry.

 

Almost running to him, Eleanor rushes out the door to Jerry.

 

“Hey Lea-” Jerry gets interrupted by a soft ‘oop’ as Eleanor hugs Jerry. She wraps her arms tight around his waist, head buried in Jerry’s shirt. Only a moment with her close friend and she can already feel tears in her eyes. _Calm down Eleanor, you can cry with d-Jerry later._

As Eleanor was going to unwrap her arms away from Jerry, he briefly hugs her shoulders, saying, “Come on, Leah. We can talk at my apartment.” He gives Eleanor the jacket he was holding, advising, “Put this on. It’s cold.” Jerry begins to enter the car. O _h, it's for me,_ Eleanor thinks to herself.

 

Wearing the jacket, Eleanor can already feel the warmth radiating from it. It’s large, possibly even Jerry’s size, and it wraps Eleanor’s small body easily. She puts her hand in the pockets, which _are humongous holy shit_ , and enters into the seat next to Jerry.

 

Turning the engine on, Jerry says, “So, I don’t know what’s going on, but I’ve got to bring you back here before morning, okay? I can’t really get away with a sudden sleepover with your mom not knowing, Leah.” The car starts. Eleanor is silent, mood turned negative once again at the reminder of her mum. “Is that okay? Leah?”

 

Eleanor looks out the window, the roads dark enough where she can barely see a thing. Jerry is silent, patient for her answer. Eventually, Eleanor grumbles, “…Fine.”

 

Jerry continues being silent. The car drives away from the Evergreen Mansion, and down the road. Eleanor continues to watch the vague, moving shapes out in the car window.

 

“By the way, not that I expect you to, but please don’t leave a mess.” Jerry pauses. “ _Technically_ , this isn’t my car. I borrowed it from an apartment-mate and she's a real stickler for cleanliness.”

  
  
Eleanor doesn’t respond. She only keeps half of her attention on him, the other half focused on keeping her tears at bay.

 

“At least you can meet my cats now,” Jerry continues. “You were always excited to get introduced by them. I think you heard Santa Holly get out, too.”

 

At the mention of Jerry’s apartment, her safe haven, Eleanor turns to him finally. Seeing Eleanor turn to him, Jerry beams and says, “ _There’s_ my girl’s face. Who looks _super tired_ by the way.” Eleanor snorts at his comment and playfully pushes him on the arm.

 

“I heard you chase your cat.” _When I called you to pick me up,_  Eleanor omitted. “Santa Holly? Who names a cat that?” She wrinkles her nose in humor.

 

Jerry face shifts into a mock-hurt expression, mouth agape comically and eyebrows furrowed deep. “How _dare_ you insult my cat. I have you know that my oldest sister Marisol helped me name it…also I couldn’t think of a better one.”

 

Eleanor rolls her eyes. “You’re going to college for a film degree, a _creative_ course, and you still couldn’t think of anything better?”

 

“Hey, naming cats is different than naming fictional characters,” Jerry defends himself. Eleanor laughs tiredly, from her overwhelming emotions and being past her usual bedtime.

 

The car slows down, parked somewhere behind a smaller car. “We’re here, m'ija.” Jerry gets out of the car, Eleanor following him the same. Once out of the car, she comes close to Jerry, who puts a comforting hand on her shoulder. They both walk up to the front, a speaker for Jerry to talk through.

 

Jerry presses a button. “Ey, Jo, let me in.”

 

There’s a pause, before, “ _Who’s there_?” a gruff, smoky voice answered, obviously tired from sleep.

 

“Ugh. Gerald “ _Jerry_ ” Gutierrez. Number B10. Can you let me in now?”

 

“Why are you out so late, Jerry?” the voice asked, sounding slightly disappointed.

 

“I had to pick up something-” Eleanor hits him in the gut. “ _Ow- Okay,_ I had to pick up _someone_. Who’s acting a bit _grumpy,_ I might add.” Eleanor grins smugly at Jerry when he points a glare at her.

 

Eleanor hears a tired sigh, before a green light illuminates itself on the speaker. Jerry opens the door for Eleanor which she says a quick ‘thanks’ before entering the building.

 

Up a pair of stairs, Eleanor notices the rather small area the apartment covers. It’s not bad, maybe even quaint and cozy in the right light, but it’s certainly different for someone who lived in large spaces alone for most of her life.

 

Before she knows it, Jerry and Eleanor stop at a pair of stair to go to a floor. Just as small as the downstairs, Eleanor follows Jerry’s lead as he looks up at each room number.

 

“What are you looking for? Don’t you know what your room number is?” Eleanor asks.

 

Jerry looks at her briefly from his checking. “Oh, yeah I do. But I’ve got to get these keys-” He waves them at her for emphasis. “-back to my neighb-”

 

“-To me?”

 

Eleanor’s attention jumps to the woman behind Jerry, who himself ungracefully jumps at the surprise woman behind him. The neighbor in mind, looks at least in her late thirties, wrinkles already crowning between her eyebrows, the edges of her eyes, and at the corners of her mouth. She has midnight black hair ( _or maybe that’s the lighting_ ), short and choppy as if she cut it herself. Her face is narrow and sharp, complementing her frown at Jerry. Her eyes seem gold, or reflective even at night, and mesmerizes Eleanor before Jerry’s voice speak.

 

“Oh Echo! I didn’t-”

 

“For waking me up and needing my car keys at ten p.m., you may call me Ms. Simons.”

 

Jerry pouts, a small wave of his hands like a child accompanying it. “Your only ten years older than me-”

 

“And twice as wanting to wake up at a reasonable time, Mr. Gutierrez. My keys?” She sticks her hand out.

  
  
“Okay…Look Ms. Simons I had to pick up-”

 

“Who’s she?” Ms. Simon’s voice interrupts Jerry’s, getting Eleanor’s focused attention.

 

She’s stunned for a second before introducing herself, “Good evening Ms. Simons, my name is Eleanor.” To win the older woman’s favors, Eleanor bows.

 

Surprisingly for Eleanor, Ms. Simons doesn’t look at her with contempt. Her eyes look more sympathetic and the frown on her face is now at a soft smile. She nods at Eleanor. “Good Evening, but you can call me Echo. You don’t need formalities.” Eleanor nods, interested in the woman’s choice of names. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see Jerry glaring at the pair jokingly.

 

“If I may ask, why is your name ‘Echo’?” The woman laughs, a wistful smile on her lips.

 

“That’s a long story, Eleanor, and it’s much too late to get into it now.”

 

Echo turns her attention back to Jerry, smile gone but her face neutral and curious instead of cold like previously. “Did you need to use my car to pick up your daughter?”

 

Eleanor is shocked and pauses at what Echo just said. Both are, Eleanor snapping her head at Jerry and him staring at Echo. Echo herself doesn’t seem to have noticed the awkwardness and waits for her neighbor to answer. Jerry is quick enough to fill in the silence after a moment. “Oh nonono, Eleanor is not my - I mean she is - Wait um... She’s a…a close family friend’s daughter who…uh-”

 

“It’s fine, don't lie to me. I won't ask any more to save us all the trouble. I don’t ask any questions, and you don’t make up any answers,” Echo finalizes, Jerry dumbly nodding to her. He stands close to Eleanor, his hand cupping her shoulder softly again. Eleanor unsubtle leans her head against it.

 

“Be careful around his cats, Eleanor. They’re an annoying sort,” Echo warns with a playful tone, as she turns around to her own apartment door.

 

Jerry rolls his eyes. “Oh shut up, we’re allowed to have animals in and they’re not that much of a ruckus. You just have stupidly good hearing and want my cats gone.”

 

“What can I say? I’m a dog person,” Echo says. “Good night, Mr, Gutierrez, and good night Eleanor.” She closes her door, shutting off all contact with the others for the night.

 

Eleanor turns to Jerry, who turned around to open his own apartment door. “You have interesting neighbors,” Eleanor adds lamely.

 

“Yeah. She goes to the same college I go to, don’t know what she’s doing. For all I care, Echo is studying to become full wolf.” With a _click_ , Eleanor hears the door open, with Jerry entering in.

 

Walking in herself, the first thing she notices are huge stacks of books and papers on the coffee table. Some look like they belong there, like a newspaper or some magazines, while others look out of place, as Eleanor notices a book on film symbolism, quantum physics, and a cookbook.

 

Eleanor also notices two other things: Jerry’s cats. a scruffy grey one looks at her briefly, before going back to sleep, indifferent of the guest. The other one was quite the opposite though, a striped, orange cat, who is currently walking its way up to Eleanor.

 

“Oh hey, you met my cats!” Jerry exclaims. “You’ve already heard of Santa Holly, who’s currently rubbing herself on your legs. She’s an orange tabby.” Just like what Jerry said, Santa Holly is looking content just rubbing herself against Eleanor. And, to be  honest with herself, Eleanor is not complaining with a cat clearly wanting her attention. A small giggle leaves her mouth, as she crouches down to pet Santa Holly. Even if it was only for a second, that already made the orange cat purr loudly.

 

“And the grey one on the cat bed is Captain Joe. Or Fuggo. He responds to both.” Eleanor looks at him puzzled. “I don’t know what breed he is, to be honest.”

 

“That’s not what I’m talking about. Why is he called Captain Joe. Or Fuggo?”

 

“Oh.” Jerry pauses. “A friend of mine chose that name. She’s pretty indecisive on what she thought was better, so I went with both.”

 

Eleanor turns her attention back at Captain Joe, who’s staring back at her. Fuggo has a calm, almost bored look at Eleanor. She would continue looking into his eyes, if Santa Holly wasn’t meowing loudly again for attention.

  
Eleanor chuckles at the tabby. “You’re a bit of an attention hog, aren’t you?” She rubs her hand through Santa Molly’s head again, which she’s also decided to rub against Eleanor’s hand. A loud purr rumbles even to Eleanor.

 

“Hey, Leah. Go to the couch, will you?” Curious, Eleanor goes to do what Jerry asked her to. On the couch itself are several books on it, cleared out by Eleanor soon to be put on the coffee table.

 

“Why do you have so many books and shit out?” Eleanor yells to Jerry, in the other room doing who-knows-what.

 

“First, no cursing in my apartment-” Jerry bangs something open (or closed?). “Second, I’m a busy person, I read a lot, I watch, a lot, I learn a lot.”

 

“You’re a nerd a lot, too.”

 

Jerry laughs, slow and sarcastic. “ _Hilarious_ , Leah. And to think I was going to celebrate your birthday with you.”

 

Eleanor pauses. She turns around to look at Jerry, shocked. “You’re what?” Entering from the other room, she sees Jerry juggling with two cartons of ice-cream, two spoons, a matchbox, and a green candle.

 

“Today’s your birthday right? So we’re going to celebrate it _correctly_.”

 

Eleanor jokes, “With an old man and a pair of cats?” Still, even if she was going to celebrate it like this, it would still beat the two hours that got her into this mess.

 

Jerry puts the things down on the only space available on the coffee table. Ignoring what she said, Jerry answers, “ _Nope_ , with chocolate ice-cream and a movie.”Jerry gives a carton to Eleanor, “Here you go.”

 

Eleanor, after thanking him, opens her ice-cream carton. Inside, is frozen chocolate, almost filled to the brim. “You bought these? For my birthday?”

 

Jerry, with his legs crossed on the couch, holds his own carton between his legs as he gives a spoon to Eleanor. “Yeah. I mean, I was going to sneak it to you tomorrow when I went to work for the pool, but now that you're here-” Jerry puts the singular candle in Eleanor’s ice-cream before she can object. “-I can give the choco ice-cream now.”

 

Eleanor stares at the candle, stuck in the middle of her ice-cream. Her jaw is clenched to not keep her smile any bigger than she wants it to. “But why?”

 

Jerry, with a spoon in his mouth, is opening up a box of matches when Eleanor asks the question. He takes the spoon out and answers, “Because I care about you? Sure, you’re my owner’s daughter and I technically did kidnap you – hold still m'ija-” Jerry stretches closer to Eleanor to burn the candle with his lit matchstick. “-There you go – but you honestly did make my life better here.” He pauses, both to think of what he was going to say and to look at Eleanor's face.

 

The flame on the candle is hot, not close to her face but Eleanor can still feel the heat. It isn’t bad though, even if some of the wax and ice-cream is melting already. It’s a comforting light that Eleanor can’t help but stare at. Jerry continues, “I had my familia back in Mexico, but I admit I felt like I had to get out of the nest really fast as the middle child of five siblings. I don’t have any lover – not that I want any – so that didn’t matter to me. And my cats can only do so much for such a guy like me.” At that, both Jerry and Eleanor stare at the sleeping cats, Captain Joe laying on the cat bed as Santa Holly lays on him.

 

Careful not to spill his ice-cream, Jerry puts a comforting hand on Eleanor’s shoulder, slightly squeezing it, not because of control but because of  love. “ _You_ gave me something to care about other than myself here. You honestly helped me realize how _important_ my mama and my papa raised me so well, and how I didn’t even talked to them in _weeks_. You gave me another reason other than paychecks to work for your mother, and that’s because of _you_. You may not be my biological family, but I can proudly say that I _care about you,_ and _that’s_ why I’m celebrating your birthday with chocolate ice-cream and a movie.”

 

Eleanor, hesitantly but in no way negative, rests her head against Jerry’s hand on her shoulder, freely letting her tears spill. Even though she’s crying, Eleanor lets herself smile as bright as the candle in front of her. She’s silent, but in no way does she feel like Jerry isn’t loved back by her.

 

 Jerry’s hand lift up from her shoulder eventually, moving to clean the drops of tears away from her face. Eleanor’s smile widens even more at the soft swipes of Jerry’s thumbs on her face. “Alright, Eleanor. Let’s get rid of the sadness of earlier and move on to the fun part: _Your birthday ice-cream_ ," Jerry sings, his voice rising and lowering ridiculously. More than ever this day, Eleanor laughs hard at Jerry’s silliness, short and raspy from crying but more genuine than all of her facades earlier in the day.

 

“Alright, _usually_ with my family, birthdays are a big deal, but the candle’s already melting pretty quick and I don’t want your first bite to be full of candle wax,” Jerry says with a face of disgust. “ _So_ , let me just…” Eleanor sees Jerry bring out a phone for a picture. With dried, teary eyes, and the most genuine smile she had ever felt, she posed for the photo that soon clicked. Jerry fondly looks at the photo he took before putting his phone away.

 

“Now make a wish and blow, Leah.”

 

Eleanor, in any other moment, would have rolled her eyes at Jerry and say she’s not a little kid, but sitting here with chocolate ice-cream and a movie for her birthday would be the most happiness she’d ever felt on her birthday, so for today, Eleanor will indulge in herself.

 

She leans up close to the candle, trying really hard on what she wants. Already a rich heiress, Eleanor has or will have whatever materialistic item she would ever want, where it’ll be more likely to think of what she wouldn’t _ever_ get.

 

But, sitting on an old couch with her mum’s poolboy, hanging with two cats, eating ice-cream that’s probably cheap as hell, going to watch a movie that Eleanor knows Jerry’s just going to criticize the whole time, she couldn’t wish for more than one thing.

 

_I wish I was Jerry’s daughter._

Once Eleanor blew the candle, Jerry starts hollering and clapping up a storm, exaggerating on his part. “Happy Birthday, Eleanor!” Eleanor can’t help but laugh at her father-figure’s silly antics.

 

“ _Alright_ , let’s finally get to this ice-cream. I swear it should have probably melted with how much prep I was doing.” Jerry picks out Eleanor’s melted candle, and puts it, once again on the coffee table.

 

“You should probably get a bigger coffee table. I’ve never seen more people use that more than you," Eleanor suggests, watching Jerry pick up a TV remote.

 

“Shush, m'ija. Movie night’s starting and ice-cream is going to melt fast.” With a mouthful of chocolate, Jerry turns on the television, flipping through channels until there’s an adequate one to criticize later. While Jerry is doing so, Eleanor takes a scoop of her ice-cream.

 

She tastes chocolate, yes, but not like any she'd tasted before. The ones she bought for herself when she can were the expensive kind that were perfectly sweet. The ice-cream in her mouth tastes weird, like a strange but nostalgic imitation of the chocolate she usually gets. Eleanor can taste something else too, burnt and slightly vanilla-like. _Probably the candle wax._ The texture of the ice-cream was interesting, half melted from the candle.

 

Eleanor can say that this was the best thing she’d had on her birthday.

 

“What do you think?” Jerry asks, already half of his carton gone in his stomach.

 

Even if it was bad, Eleanor loved it. “I hate it.”

 

“Oh _sure_ you hate it. But you do know what I _hate_? The main character in this _fricking_ series! I mean _like_ -”

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to end really sad originally lol
> 
> This was also supposed to be 3,000 words but you can see that didn't work out either.
> 
> Than you for reading, this was so much fun to write with the emotional rollercoaster this was.
> 
> There are a bunch of inside jokes and levels of meta on my part to understand it so GL for readers lol
> 
> Credit to original characters are at the top. :)
> 
> I'm at tumblr too. XaestheticallyXSneezingX.


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